


Put on Your Dancing Shoes

by dessert_first



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Happy, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dessert_first/pseuds/dessert_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs a favor, Castiel is the ideal fake boyfriend, and the Winchester/Campbell clan... helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put on Your Dancing Shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sister of Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sister+of+Dream).



> Birthday present for . Thanks so much to Sis and the ever intrepid for helping me brainstorm and wail and moan through the process. For my very dear friend. Hope you like it!

**Put on Your Dancing Shoes**

Dean waits until their weekly meet-up at the pretentious coffee bar they both know he secretly loves but won't admit to on pain of fiery zombie-induced death. The waitress is already coming over with their order when Cas arrives, because Dean got here first and Castiel's choice of tea is predictable.

As soon as Castiel sits down, Dean cuts to the chase. "Dude, I need a favor."

Castiel blinks, a long, slow, puzzled lowering of his lashes. "Of course, Dean," he says.

Dean frowns. "Don't you want to know what the favor is before you say yes?"

"If it is something you need, you have but to ask," Castiel says simply.

Dean digs into his peach pie. The pretentious coffee bar he secretly loves calls it a ginger-peach vanilla-scented Swiss tart, but it's pie, and it's fantastic. "You’re a freak, you know that?" he tells Castiel.

"So you tell me," Castiel's eyes crinkle the slightest bit at the corners, which for him is practically a snicker, and delicately sips at his tea.

**

Dean Winchester loves his mother. He really does.

He's a family man, always has been. Maybe he doesn’t have a wife and kids and picket fence of his own, and maybe he's had a few too many one-night stands to qualify as a nice boy, but he always remembers Mother's Day and Sam's birthday and Grandma and Grandpa Campbell's wedding anniversary and his father's yearly taking apart and putting back together of a perfectly good engine just to prove he isn't losing his touch. He even brings Jess flowers whenever she and Sam invite him over for dinner. Dean would do anything for his family.

It's just that they happen to be driving him crazy.

**

"So it's just one family dinner," Dean tells Castiel. "And the food will be awesome, I swear. And I promise to stick to the speed limits on the way over."

"I have already agreed, Dean," Castiel says mildly. "Anything you need."

"I mean, I have a good job, a nice place, a killer car, and it's still the freaking Spanish inquisition every time I come over."

"I see," Cas says in that low, careful tone that means he doesn't.

"They mean well, but if I get one more excruciating setup over my mother's world-famous lasagna I am gonna jump out of Sam's old nursery window."

"And you believe my presence would deter this?"

"Yeah, I mean, they just want me to settle down with someone and adopt some dogs or kids or, I don't know, goldfish." Dean scrubs a hand through his hair. "One family dinner. You can impress everyone with your command of dead languages and perfect table manners, I can eat my damned lasagna in peace and a few months later I tell them we had a nice, amicable break-up and, hopefully, they give me a couple of years to mourn in peace."

Castiel tilts his head. "I suspect your plan has certain fundamental flaws," he says.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it."

**

Dean would be the first to admit he sleeps with a lot of people. He didn't always think he'd be thirty and single and a workaholic book editor, but that's the way things worked out, and he's mostly okay with it. He got to help Sam through college and law school, pitches in to help make his parents more comfortable, and keeps his car in mint condition, so it's pretty much all win as far as he can see.

There was a girl, once, he thought he could settle down with, get to make his own home with, but in this day and age anyone who thinks they met the love of their life at twenty and things would never change is kind of a moron.

Anyway, the point is, Dean is doing okay.

**

D-Day goes off without a hitch. Dean's family even waits until they're all sitting down to dinner before they start the interrogation.

"So how did you boys meet?" Mary asks, beaming at Dean and Cas from across the table.

"Dean had sex with my sister," Castiel says, calmly spearing salad onto his fork.

Sam loudly chokes on a bite of lasagna.

Dean glares at his brother. "That was a long time ago, though, wasn't it, sweetheart?" he tells Castiel. "We don't really talk about it much."

"Sometimes we do," Castiel observes. "My sister still says you are one of the best lays she has ever had. She says your—"

"Oversharing, Cas," Dean says quickly.

John just smirks into his dinner.

"Well," Mary says, with polite false cheer. "That's certainly an interesting story."

"So how did the two of you end up getting together after that?" Jess looks frankly curious, and maybe a little—no. Dean can't even think of his brother's girl getting turned on by his own soap opera of a sex life.

But when he looks up, everyone is looking at him expectantly. Even Castiel.

"Well, I… I mean, Anna and I, we had a thing…" Meaning they had a one night stand, not that Dean's going to share that with his mother. "But it wasn't really serious, and then, uh, we all got to know each other." Meaning she forgot her keys at his place, which forced her to contact Dean again, and Cas drove her over to meet Dean at the pretentious coffee bar to get them back, which was how he ended up meeting Dean himself. Dean and Anna never hooked up again, but the pretentious coffee bar grew on him, and so did Cas.

Castiel is watching him with an earnest, trusting expression, ready to play along with whatever Dean says.

"And?" Jess prompts.

"And, uh." Wow. What has it been now, about a year? Crazy. "Then I realized it was Cas. It was Cas all along."

Mary's expression softens while Jess positively beams. Sam just looks like dinner might not have agreed with him, and John looks somewhere between doubtful and amused.

Dean is afraid to look over at Cas, but he doesn't speak up to contradict him or call him a big fat liar or anything, so Dean figures that's good enough. He gets up to clear the table. "Cas and I brought dessert, so is everyone ready for pie?"

"According to the coffee bar, it is a mango-almond whole wheat pastry galette," Castiel intones seriously, getting up to help him, and when Dean comes back from the kitchen everyone is talking about Grandma and Grandpa Campbell's upcoming golden wedding anniversary, so he figures they're home free.

**

He gets to live in blissful ignorance for one glorious week.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel's voice is just as deep and serious over the phone as it is in person.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says, walking into the crowded elevator on his way out to lunch, already thinking of the diner down the street with the awesome fruit cobblers. "Listen, thanks again for what you did the other day."

"You are welcome, Dean."

"So what's up?"

"There is something I need to ask you," Castiel says.

"Ask away."

The elevator doors open and Dean steps out into the lobby to end up face to face with Castiel. "What should I bring to your grandparents' wedding anniversary?" Castiel asks into the cellphone he is still holding, his gravely voice sounding doubled as Dean hears it from Cas' lips and through his own phone.

"What?" Dean asks.

**

The fact that Anna thinks all this is hilarious doesn't really help Dean's mood.

"No seriously, tell it again," she gasps, wiping away tears of laughter.

"I do not believe Dean's mother had any way of knowing I would be at that particular bookstore last night," Castiel says. "But once we saw each other, she was compelled to greet me, and I thanked her for her hospitality last week."

"No, no, go back to the beginning, that's the best part," Anna snickers. "Wait, no, go forward to where you told Dean, _that's_ the best part. No, wait—"

"Why are you even _here,_ anyway?" Dean growls.

"I have never observed a wedding vow renewal ceremony." Castiel looks on, unfazed by his sister's fit. "I thought Anna might have feminine insight into an appropriate gift for your grandparents."

Anna wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. "Oooh. Oh, man. No way. This is the best day of my life." She dissolves into a fresh fit of giggles.

"Well, you can't _go_!" Dean blurts.

Castiel just looks at him uncomprehendingly. "Why not?"

"Because I—because you—" Dean flounders, feeling like a massive heel.

Anna glares at him, and Cas's face begins to have the slightest tinge of confused disappointment.

"Because you don't have a tux," Dean finishes lamely. "We should go get you one. And you don’t have to worry about the gift, you know. I've got it covered."

So that's how Dean ends up agreeing to take Castiel as his date to his grandparents' golden anniversary.

**

For all that the method is different, most days Dean pretty much feels like he's still carrying on in his old man's footsteps. John Winchester fixes cars, and Dean fixes books. He's not sure when he realized he was good enough at it that maybe it could be his job, but it was probably sometime during the journalism and lit classes he took in college just so he could spend more time with his girlfriend. The relationship with Cassie ended after junior year, but he had a knack for pop lit, especially the genre stuff, and while he hasn't yet found himself a Vonnegut or a Kress to edit, the books Dean fixes tend to do pretty well, so it looks like he ended up in the right job after all.

Too bad it sometimes calls for a little more in the way of people skills than Dean strictly cares for—there's a reason he went into editing, not therapy.

And it really sucks to have his assistant be out sick when he's two hours into another endless meeting with a neurotic writer. Seriously, Dean's job mostly rocks, but when Nick isn't around to bail him out of these things it can get tedious, and if he kicks Chuck out himself, the guy pouts for weeks and his writing pace slows to a crawl.

"It's the POV, isn't it? Nobody likes second person, what was I thinking?" Chuck takes another slug from his flask, slouching down into the worn-in green couch in Dean's office.

"The chapter is crap, Chuck," Sometimes it's best to just lay it all out for him. "I think we've talked enough about the chapter. You know what to do."

"If I'd known you were going to be so picky, I would have given it another pass," Chuck laments.

"I'm always this picky," Dean says. "That's why I get paid the medium bucks. Just read my notes again."

"It's all notes! Your notes have notes! I mean, they're good notes, but with this many of them you could just write your own book!" Chuck glances nervously over at Dean, whose unfinished Great American Novel, required of all English Lit majors everywhere, is none of Chuck's business. "I mean, if you wanted to. Or, or not."

Surreptitiously, Dean texts Castiel, holding his phone under the desk as he pretends to take Chuck seriously. "I need u 2 save me," he texts.

A quiet beep heralds his response, and he excuses himself for a second to glance down at the screen.

"We can rescue each other," Castiel's text says, all perfect grammar and lack of emoticons. "Would you like to meet me for lunch?"

Dean looks back up at Chuck, flooding his face with fake apology. "Sorry, man, I gotta take this meeting. Let me know when you've worked on my suggestions, okay?"

**

"Seriously, thanks for pulling me out of hell. So why did _you_ need rescuing?" Dean asks Castiel, tucking into his sandwich. The park bench is nice and sunny, and Castiel always makes the best sandwiches. This one has eggplant, roasted red peppers and Cas's homemade pesto on pressed ciabatta. Dean moans around a huge bite.

"My brothers," Castiel says glumly. "They were dispensing advice again. They are very fond of dispensing advice."

Dean shakes his head. "Are you ever gonna leave that job?"

"It is the family business," Castiel says. "They need an accountant."

"They can hire another accountant, Cas. Anna left the family business, why can't you?"

"Anna is something of a black sheep," Castiel says. "I am the only one who still speaks to her."

"Castiel, if anyone was ever _not_ about Precious Moments knockoff manufacturing, it's you."

"We all have our place in the world," Cas murmurs. "I do my duty. It was what my Father wanted."

"Well, what do _you_ want?"

Castiel just looks at Dean quietly for a moment, then back down at his lunch.

**

There really isn't anything Dean wouldn't do for his family. So, sure, if his mother and grandmother need some help prepping for the big anniversary shindig, Dean is there. And if it involves cake tasting at the best bakery in town, so be it.

"Oh, my God," Deanna moans. "That is so good."

"So good," Mary agrees, mouth full.

Dean just keeps chewing, but he nods in agreement. He's really a pie man at heart, but the lemon chiffon cake with raspberry mousse and coconut frosting is seriously amazing. Dean might have to switch dessert preferences.

"I'm so glad you like it," the store employee—Imelda, she'd said her name was—chirps politely. "Now this is another customer favorite. It's a pistachio cake with a buttercream filling, covered with a white chocolate ganache and decorated with pieces of pistachio-chai brittle."

Dean bites into the dainty little sample. "Holy fuck," he murmurs reverently.

"Language," Mary says, half-hearted.

"Fucking A," says Deanna, going for another piece.

"Can we get some coffee with this?" Dean asks.

**

"I really liked your friend," Mary says later, as they're looking at the wedding ring displays at the jeweler's.

Dean immediately feels a tidal wave of guilt from lying to his mother. "Oh, yeah. Cas is great."

"Can't wait to meet him," Deanna remarks. "Sweetie, what do you think of these platinum bands?"

Dean and Mary both look over dutifully.

"They're beautiful, Mom," Mary finally says.

"I like your old rings," Dean says. "I mean, these are nice, but. The old ones have history, you know?"

"Well, they're not very fancy. We couldn't afford much at the time, and your grandfather always promised me we'd get a new set someday. Make some new memories. But the old ones…" Deanna's lined face lights up with an indulgent smile, and she pats Dean's hand. "You're right. Those rings do have a lot of wonderful history. And I want you to have them."

"Me?" Dean backs away, startled. "What about Mom?"

"I have my own history," Mary smiles down at her own ring. "And so does my brother."

"But Sam has Jess, he's—I mean, I'm sure any day now he's gonna pop the question, and I—" Dean stops, shakes his head again. "You might never get that, with me. The wedding and the wife and the picket fence, that might never happen."

"Oh, honey, we don't care," Mary says. "We just want you to be happy, you know that."

"You are my eldest grandchild, Dean Winchester," Deanna says firmly. "The rings are yours. And you can use them any way you like."

"Your whole life you've had so much love to give." Mary reaches up to smooth Dean's hair. "But you've been afraid to offer it to anybody for such a long time now."

"Mom," Dean protests. He hadn't realized he'd be in for such an estrogenfest when he agreed to this outing.

"Just take the leap, baby."

"I need a drink," Dean says, edging towards the door.

"Shots are on me." Deanna leads the way out.

**

"Is this really necessary?" Castiel asks from inside the dressing room.

"Trust me, it is," Dean says. "Just take it like a man. I had to."

Castiel comes out, stiff and uncomfortable in his tuxedo. He looks like a million bucks from the neck down, rumpled and befuddled from the neck up.

Dean smiles. "That's the ticket. C'mere."

Cas comes over and Dean adjusts his bow tie, straightens the lapels of his jacket.

"Is it appropriate?" Castiel asks.

"Yeah," Dean says softly. "Yeah, it is. You look great."

Castiel ducks his head, opens his mouth slightly and shuts it again. "This event involves a lot of work," he finally says.

"Yeah, well, humans and their rituals," Dean shrugs. "Celebrating your commitment to stick it out with someone forever, declaring your love in front of everybody you ever met. And, you know, after making it work for fifty years… I gotta say, that deserves whatever the hell kind of celebration they damn well please, if you ask me."

"I see," Castiel frowns thoughtfully, like he's working out some complicated math.

"I'm just saying, not everybody gets to have that," Dean says, awkward. "We should, uh. We should go get you some shoes, man."

**

Dean knows his way around under the hood of a car. He'd have to, or turn in his ID as John Winchester's son. But he doesn't really keep a lot of tools in his garage; his dad's place is roomier and better stocked. So he frees up a Saturday and drives over to Winchester Auto Repair, nodding hello at the cluster of employees.

"Hi, Mister Winchester," says the new kid, who doesn't know any better yet. He looks about thirteen, but Dean knows he's twenty-two and married, with a kid at home.

Dean doesn’t even bother correcting him anymore. "Hey, Paulie. How's the family?"

"Lola called me 'Dada' the other day," Paulie says proudly.

"Way to go, dude!"

"Hey, Dean," Sal rolls out from under a little Japanese import and looks at Dean's car oddly. There's an oil smudge layered over his perpetual five o'clock shadow, the whiskers grown salt and pepper over the years. "Long time no see. How're the books?"

"The books are good, Sal. There's a new Devereaux story coming out; I'll save you a copy."

"You're the best, Deano." Sal grins. "For that I'll throw in an oil change."

"Yeah, and have my dad disown me for not doing it myself," Dean laughs.

"You could come over in cover of darkness," Sal says solemnly. "Wear a disguise. I'll never tell."

"Too many thrillers, Sal," Dean says. "I'm cutting you off."

Charlie walks over, wiping her hands on an old rag. "Well, if it's a Deveraux story, I'll take a copy."

"You, I can introduce to the author," Dean winks.

Her smile is wicked. "For that, I'll throw in more than an oil change."

Okay, Dean might have slept with Charlie once.

But that was a long time ago. Oceans of time.

Not the sharpest idea Dean ever had, either, sleeping with his dad's employee, but hey. Charlie's hot. She slants her dark cat's eyes at Dean, ostentatiously looking up and down his body, and pitches her voice low. "You can collect anytime. You always did have a fantastic--"

A loud "Ahem" announces John's presence as he stands in the doorway to his office, smirking.

Dean whips away, feeling guilty for no actual reason he can think of. Charlie winks at him and walks away, her round ass swaying sweetly inside her coveralls.

"Uh, Dad," Dean says, feeling all of fifteen again. "Hey."

"Good to see you, son." John looks over at the bright yellow Neon Dean drove in, frowning deeply. "What the hell is that?"

"It's Cas's car."

John raises his eyebrows.

"It needs a new fan belt and I thought I'd go ahead and check everything over while I was at it."

"So what's your friend driving while you do all this?"

"I lent him the Impala."

There's a loud clatter as Sal drops a socket wrench, the only noise breaking the sudden dead silence in the garage. John's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, and Dean turns to notice everyone staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing at all." His father grins widely and claps Dean on the back. "Let's go get you that fan belt."

**

"Is something different?" Sarah asks, looking at Dean thoughtfully.

"What?" Dean shuffles the proofs of her latest chapters of the Deveraux art thief series. He had some notes in there somewhere that he hadn't transcribed into email, something about the haunted painting in chapter three.

Sarah leans back in her chair across from Dean's desk and taps a finger against her full lips. "You look… happy."

"I'm always happy to see you, sweetheart," Dean leers, making her laugh.

"You know, one day I might just take you up on your offers," Sarah grins. "I mean, it happened ages ago, but you are still one of the best lays I've ever had. Your—"

"Okay, okay, I give!" Dean can feel himself blushing and curses his fair skin again. It's hard to be a badass when you blush. "Nothing's different."

Sarah shakes her head, her smile wide and sweet. "Well, if anything does come up, let me know, would you? Nothing different looks good on you."

"Uh, you know, that reminds me," Dean says. "There's someone I want you to meet."

She leans forward in her chair, as if about to hear gossip on somebody else instead of a setup for herself. "Is he hot?"

" _She_ is very hot."

**

Dean loosens his bowtie and tugs irritably at his collar while he waits for the bartender to pour his drinks. He heads back, navigating through the crowd of dolled up dancers with his beer and Cas's sparkling water, and rounds a crowd of Campbell cousins who've flown in for the event and are staying in hotel rooms upstairs. He's pretty sure there's some people here he hasn't seen since he was five, including some of the douchier really distant cousins. Speaking of which, he spins a quick 180, narrowly avoiding walking by Christian and Gwen, pretty sure he made it without catching anybody's eye. He passes another wave of people just in time to hear Sam's familiar voice pitched low.

"Um, no offense, but…" Sam coughs. "My brother? Really?"

Dean narrows his eyes. Sam's talking to Cas, and Dean can't help drawing near enough to listen in.

Castiel tilts his head questioningly.

"Well, I mean. I just wouldn't think he seemed like your type."

Castiel considers this. "I do not think I have a type. But if I did, it would be Dean."

Dean beats back a swell of some strange emotion in his chest.

"Hey, Cas," he says, stepping closer. "Wanna dance?"

Cas, as usual, doesn't hesitate. "Yes, Dean."

Dean hands his brother the drinks and grabs Castiel's hand. "Then let's go," he grins.

**

Everyone congratulates Dean on his awesome new relationship. Apparently, Castiel is a fascinating conversationalist on topics as diverse as religion, mythology, the arts, cooking, finances and taxidermy, so he manages to make a good impression on pretty much everyone he meets. Plus all Dean's cousins keep hustling him off to dance.

"Oh, sweetheart, he's fantastic," Mary enthuses, hugging Dean on her way to the dance floor with John. "You've finally let somebody in."

Dean winces.

"Hey kiddo," Deanna says. "You up for another dance with the bride?"

"Always," Dean says, leading her out onto the floor. Belying their age, she and his grandfather have been cutting a rug most of the night, and she's practically glowing with happiness.

"Everything turned out great," he tells her, meaning it.

"So all the fuss paid off, huh?" she grins. "What the hell. How often do you get to do it up in style?"

"Well, you sure did that tonight." Dean glances around.

Grandpa Samuel is dancing with Deanna's sister, John and Mary are lost in their own world, Missouri is chastising Sam about something or other and Jess is attempting to lead Cas in what looks like some kind of Argentine tango, laughing whenever they misstep.

Deanna's gaze follows his. "So, is he a keeper?" she nods in Cas's direction.

"Um. Cas is—he's—we're not really—" For a guy who edits words for a living, Dean is kind of sucking at this, but he can't lie to his own grandmother on her wedding day. Wedding vow renewal day. Whatever.

"What's to think about?" Deanna says. "I knew the minute I first saw your grandfather. He was a stone fox."

Dean trips. "Are you saying fifty years of marriage, two children and five grandchildren are all based on superficial looks?"

"It worked out pretty well, don't you think?" Deanna winks.

"That’s… really terrible advice," Dean says.

She's still laughing when his grandfather cuts in.

**

"Dean. _Dean._ " Sam is getting insistent, and when Dean turns, he's worked up a serious bitchface.

"What?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what I said to Cas, okay? Can you stop avoiding me now? This hotel isn't _that_ huge."

Dean frowns up at his brother. "Fine. You're forgiven."

"I really don't think I am."

"What do you want from me, Sammy?" Dean asks, tired of the whole thing.

"I just want you to be happy, man. And I know you. This…" Sam waves in the direction of the dance floor, where Mary is now leading Castiel in a bunny hop, laughing at his utter bemusement. "This isn't you, Dean."

"Yeah, well maybe it is. Maybe it should be." Dean turns away, but Sam is quick to step ahead of him, cutting him off.

"Remember when Jess and I had that big fight after college and I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her or never see her again? _You_ set me straight, Dean. You've been looking out for me my whole life. I just—I want to return the favor, okay? For my big brother."

Dean looks down for a long moment. "Fine. But that big brother speech was dirty pool."

Sam just looks earnest and innocent. He grabs two beers from a passing waiter and passes one to Dean, a peace offering.

"Cas is—he's a friend. I just asked him to come along for a family dinner and, uh. Pretend a little." Dean fiddles with his beer bottle.

"Why?"

"Because you guys were all driving me crazy! This whole anniversary thing has given Mom wedding fever, Jess is always setting me up with her clueless friends, and I can't prove Dad knows I slept with Charlie, but—"

"No," Sam says. "I meant, why him? He's awesome, but he's not exactly the most conventional choice. You could have asked anyone. Hell, you could've asked Charlie, or Cas's sister, or that hot Devereaux writer, or any of your usual fuckbuddies. Why Castiel?"

"He was—he's… he's _Castiel_."

Sam takes a long sip of his beer, buying time, then lowers it and peers at Dean through his long bangs. "Do you think maybe—I'm just saying _maybe_ —maybe asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend would be sort of a safe way of trying it out?"

Dean shakes his head. "What, do you mean I asked him to be my fake boyfriend so I could see what it was like to have him be my real boyfriend without actually—I should call Chuck."

"Chuck?" Sam looks confused.

"This'll really get him out of that corner he's painted himself into in chapter twenty." Dean looks out at Castiel, hair sticking up in all directions and tie askew, ridiculously hopping along with Dean's mom. "Oh, and, uh. I should really go talk to my boyfriend."

"Fake boyfriend," Sam corrects, ever helpful, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah," Dean says, distracted. He hands Sam his untouched beer and walks out onto the dance floor to collect Castiel.

**

Dean drives Cas home in the wee hours, the early morning rays of the sun starting to light up the streets. He parks in front of Cas's converted farmhouse, walks him to his door and stops, lingering, hands in his pockets. Castiel tilts his head, curious, his key in the rickety old lock that always sticks.

Dean clears his throat. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"Of course," Cas says. He looks at Dean long and steady, as if deciphering some obscure code.

The make their way in after a fumble of key and lock, and their momentum swings them around up against the door as it slams shut. When Dean looks up from the tangle of their shoes, Castiel is smiling at him gently, amused and a little bit of something else Dean can't figure out. He files it away for later.

"You were a great date," he tells Cas, and the corners of Castiel's mouth turn up in pleasure.

"I am glad," he says.

Neither of them backs away.

"I didn't know you could dance."

Castiel's smile turns wry. "Nor did I." His eyes are very blue.

"My mother loves you," Dean blurts, then wants to kick himself. Way to kill the mood, genius.

Castiel, however, is as oblivious to normal human social cues as ever. "She is a remarkable woman," he says, still not backing away.

"And you're always there for me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Dean leans a little bit closer. "No matter what?"

"Always, Dean," Castiel pledges, and that's a hell of a lot more than Dean's ever gotten from a one night stand, which he's not too out of it to notice seems to be where this is heading.

Or it would be, if Castiel wasn't oblivious to normal human social cues. Turns out there's a downside to that.

"Cas," Dean sways forward slightly, only slightly because they're already so close they're sharing the same air, and takes hold of Castiel's lapels. "Listen, I'm—I want—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I'm asking."

"It doesn't matter."

"Cas…"

Castiel closes that last breadth of air between them and kisses him.

Dean pulls away, gasping. "I'm not—"

"Dean. Stop talking."

Cas kisses him again, and it feels like all Dean's nerve endings are catching fire, as if every part of him knows Cas is here, will be here, even the parts he isn't touching yet.

But they can fix that, too.

Dean doesn't break the kiss, just reaches up and pulls at the knot of Castiel's bowtie, the one Dean tied himself, and undoes it. They keep kissing all the way up the stairs to Castiel's bedroom, shedding clothes as they go, shoes and socks and Cas's trench coat, jackets, shirts, every last stitch until they're naked on the bed and it's like a revelation, skin on skin and Dean feels both stone cold sober and almost outside himself, all at once.

Castiel can't seem to stop kissing Dean, his mouth, his face, his neck. His kisses taste sweet from wedding cake and sparkling cider, and his arms are strong, so strong as they hold Dean, fingers gripping his shoulders almost hard enough to bruise. He pulls away and buries his face in Dean's neck, sighing, never loosening his grip.

"I prayed for this," he says, speaking into Dean's skin.

Dean stops, his hand coming up to cup Castiel's head where it rests in the curve of Dean's shoulder. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to have faith." Castiel looks up, meeting Dean's gaze.

"Maybe…" Dean clears his throat. "Maybe you can help me with that."

Castiel closes his eyes and smiles. "Yes," he says.

Another kiss, and Dean runs his hands down Castiel's body for the first time, and for the first time in years the act of sex feels like a sacrament. He thinks maybe tonight they'll teach each other something new.

**

It's two days later when they finally part ways.

"So I'll see you tonight?" Dean asks, pulling up the Impala in front of Castiel's office building.

"Yes," Castiel says solemnly. "It is a date. A real one."

Dean laughs. "I can honestly say, Cas, you and I have never been on a fake date in our lives."

Castiel smiles and kisses Dean, and Dean feels himself catch fire all over again, and it's the best feeling ever.

Cas pulls away looking more rumpled than ever, but happy. He climbs out of the car and walks away. He slips his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and stops, turning around and heading back to Dean. "I think sex may be affecting my memory. Your grandmother said I should give you this." He hands over a little box, steals one more kiss and walks away.

Curious, Dean opens it. His grandmother and grandfather's old wedding rings are there, simple gold bands worn smooth.

"Not a subtle woman, my grandmother." Dean shakes his head, but pockets the box thoughtfully. He looks out the window at Castiel, opening the front door to his office building, looking back at Dean with a such a happy, open expression Dean is momentarily floored.

Castiel walks into the building and Dean sits there another moment, the little box heavy in his jacket pocket. He puts the Impala into gear and when he drives away, he's smiling.

 

The End.


End file.
